ATTS Ch 3

Blake Wilder, Kwon Yijae’s longest-serving bodyguard, was from a PMC under Quantum. He was born at the tail end of the Great Cataclysm and awakened as an Esper in the era of peace. Though his Esper abilities were impressive, his greatest strength lay in his exceptional physical skills honed through various martial arts, as his childhood dream had been to become an athlete. Lost and adrift after his awakening, he chose to enlist in the PMC.

He had met Kwon Yijae quite a while ago, back when he was a mercenary for the private military company, traveling to conflict zones around the world. At the time, Kwon Yijae was a graduate student at Cambridge. Blake only knew that Yijae was the grandson of a VIP; he didn’t know that he had only recently awakened as a Guide.

{I asked for a recommendation for someone in the PMC with good hand-to-hand combat skills, and everyone mentioned you. They said you were skilled.}

{Thank you for the compliment.}

The man, who seemed taller than Blake, took off his suit jacket, draped it over a chair, and rolled up his shirt sleeves to his elbows.

{Shall we spar?}

{…Pardon?}

{Wear your ability suppression piercings.}

{Understood.}

Blake didn’t think much of it, assuming the well-born, well-built young master simply needed to relieve some stress. He figured he should go easy on him; if he were to injure this VIP, he would undoubtedly be the one reprimanded.

Kwon Yijae, noticing that Blake wasn’t giving it his all, didn’t hold back. He relentlessly targeted joints and vital points. Even if Espers healed quickly and were difficult to kill, they still felt pain.

Blake, focused on defending and protecting his vital points from the young master’s attacks, eventually had to fight back with a killer instinct, as if in a real battle. Kwon Yijae proved through his actions that he wasn’t just some ordinary rich kid, as Blake had initially assumed.

After a lengthy brawl, Kwon Yijae was the first to go down. Blake, having landed a punch to the young master’s abdomen, also gasped for breath, popping his dislocated shoulder back into place.

Kwon Yijae, slumped against the desk and sitting on the floor, turned to the side and coughed up a mouthful of blood. Irritably rubbing his bruised stomach, he suddenly burst into laughter for no apparent reason.

{You passed the interview. Go back to the PMC, gather a list of suitable personnel for security detail, and report back to me. Once that’s done, start working here. You’re in charge of my security from today onwards.}

Blake wondered why someone capable of fighting him on equal grounds needed a bodyguard, but in the quasi-military environment of the PMC, obedience to superiors was paramount.

That’s how Blake Wilder became Kwon Yijae’s bodyguard. He started learning Korean for the bilingual Yijae, and they spoke in Korean when they were alone. It was quite some time later that he learned Yijae was a Guide.

‘You’re a Guide?’

‘Why, are you surprised?’

‘…To be honest, yes. I never dared to presume, but you seem more like an Esper than a Guide.’

Blake’s misunderstanding was understandable. Kwon Yijae was nearly two meters tall, and his lean body was composed of tightly sculpted muscles, hard enough to deflect a blade. His broad shoulders meant he had to have all his clothes tailored.

But that didn’t mean he was bulky. He was sufficiently flexible and agile. Whenever Blake sparred with him and saw his fiercely competitive gaze, he was reminded of a predatory beast, blood staining its mouth.

‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’

Blake often sparred with Kwon Yijae. Yijae demanded that Blake wear ability suppression piercings and fight him on equal terms. Sometimes Kwon Yijae would get hurt, sometimes Blake would be knocked down. As if that wasn’t enough, he even learned various special forces combat techniques from Blake. It was amusing, but he definitely had a talent for it.

‘Director. Excuse me, but may I ask you something?’

‘Go ahead.’

Kwon Yijae was a decent boss. He was generally lenient with competent individuals, and he treated Blake, whom he had known the longest, almost like a friend.

‘I’ll be responsible for your security. If that’s what you’re worried about, you don’t have to push yourself this hard.’

‘Is it a bother for you every morning?’

‘That’s not what I mean. Sparring with you is very helpful for me too. To be honest, there’s no one in the PMC who can match you. I’m just curious… You’re a Guide, after all.’

‘Right. What trouble could I possibly get into outside? You’re always with me. But being treated like a dildo by Espers isn’t a one-time thing. Let’s just say it’s for self-defense.’

‘…Did something happen again?’

‘Perhaps?’

Kwon Yijae responded with a chilling smile. He loathed both Espers and his own role as a Guide. But he had to meet with the Espers who came to him, clinging to him. This was due to both his background and his value as a Guide.

The Esper who appeared before Kwon Yijae after all this time was, unexpectedly, an immature, young Esper who could barely control his own body.

What was he planning to do?

While Blake pushed the wheelchair, Kwon Yijae seemed lost in thought, deep in contemplation. Everyone at Quantum, waiting for his instructions, sprang into action. The building, completely sealed off from the outside world, was opened. The elevators connecting the floors began to operate again.

When they reached the end of the long corridor, Blake stopped the wheelchair and asked Shin Jeha,

“Do you need medical attention?”

His intonation was slightly awkward, but his Korean was perfect.

“…I think… I’ll be okay.”

The Kwon Yijae Blake saw today was a little different. It wasn’t that he was more violent than when he dismissed other Espers. Kwon Yijae was always rough, and he never made exceptions for any Esper. But the thought that today’s Kwon Yijae was actually enjoying this situation wouldn’t leave Blake’s mind.

Ignoring his instructions, Blake went around to the front of the wheelchair and examined Shin Jeha’s face. Despite the brief guiding, the purple bruises on his cheeks had already faded, leaving only faint red marks.

It took about an hour by car to get from here to the Center. If he had recovered this much in such a short time, there would likely be no trace left by the time they arrived.

“Yes, I agree, it doesn’t seem necessary. My apologies for the inconvenience.”

Ding, the elevator arrived. All Blake had to do was politely escort him to the underground parking lot, put him in the waiting van, and send him back to the Center. His job would be done.

“Hmm?”

But the wheelchair didn’t move.

“Excuse me, I’m really sorry, but just a moment. I’m… thinking right now, and it will only take a moment.”

Shin Jeha pleaded in an anxious voice. Blake looked down at the boy’s head. He looked like a dying patient, but he was holding on with all his might. His ESP was so weak that even Blake’s breath could shatter it.

“Hmm…”

Blake didn’t immediately intervene because he had a vague sense that the boy wouldn’t cause any harm. He could have attacked Kwon Yijae with his ESP, attacked Blake, or caused a scene. But he was merely stopping the wheelchair, that was all.

“Do you have something you want to say?”

“If I leave here… it will be difficult to see the Director again, won’t it?”

“Yes. The Director isn’t planning to stay in Korea.”

“…”

A Guide who refused guiding, and an Esper who couldn’t live without that Guide.

Shin Jeha faced the most critical crossroads of his life. Kwon Yijae had kindly informed him of what he would have to endure, what he would have to give up, to receive his guiding. The choice was Shin Jeha’s.

He would be troubled if I wasn’t in pain?

Then all he had to do was remain in pain.

The moment he found this simple solution, Shin Jeha also realized that he couldn’t give up on this man.

He couldn’t go back like this.

“I’m sorry. Let’s go.”

That’s when Blake reached for the handles of the wheelchair again.

“Please… help me.”

“Did you ask for help?”

“Just for a moment… please let me talk to him, the Director, just for a moment.”

If he got on the elevator and went down, everything would be over. The opportunity to choose, and Kwon Yijae.

Shin Jeha, an Esper, didn’t have freedom of movement. He couldn’t board a plane without government permission, and he didn’t know any other way to get to England. No Esper could remain sane knowing their Guide was across the ocean.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cause trouble. I won’t be a bother. I promise, just five minutes. Just letting me speak to him is enough. It might not even take five minutes…”

Shin Jeha pleaded with Blake in a desperate voice. But he too was Kwon Yijae’s man. Even the boy’s sickly appearance and repeated pleas couldn’t sway Blake.

Shin Jeha’s ability? He didn’t know how powerful it was, but in his current state, Blake was confident he could subdue him.

“Just for a moment, please… I really won’t do anything. I promise. Just let me talk to him, just for a moment…”

The problem was that this place wasn’t on Korean territory guaranteed by the Embassy. Inside the Quantum building, British law applied first; it was extraterritorial.

If a fight broke out with an Esper in such a sensitive location, Kwon Yijae might have to resolve the issue diplomatically later. He understood the Esper’s desperation, and there was no need to escalate the situation by refusing such a small request.

That alone wouldn’t have been enough, but the hesitation lingering in Blake’s mind was ultimately due to Kwon Yijae.

His boss, who seemed different today.

Kwon Yijae wasn’t the type to explain his tendencies to an Esper. He wouldn’t bat an eye, regardless of what kind of protest an Esper staged outside. Yet he had called this boy in, brought him to his office, and kindly explained why he couldn’t provide guiding…

At that moment, Blake had a sudden realization.

Were those words truly meant as a rejection of guiding? Or were they an invitation, a challenge to come prepared?

“Alright, I understand.”

That must be it. Perhaps listening to Shin Jeha wouldn’t be disobeying Kwon Yijae’s orders after all.

“It’s not my place to allow or disallow this. I’ll ask the Director. So let’s deal with this first.”

“I’ll… trust… your promise.”

“I can’t make any promises. If the Director refuses, I’ll stop you.”

“I understand… that can’t be helped. Thank you…”

Relieved by Blake’s answer, Shin Jeha finally relaxed. He seemed to be struggling to breathe, his condition worsened by the use of his ESP.

Blake turned the wheelchair around. As they went back down the corridor, Shin Jeha murmured in a small voice,

“Thank you so much… I’ll never forget what you did for me today.”

“Tell that to the Director.”

Blake Wilder replied in a curt voice.

Blake Wilder took a deep breath, carefully knocked on the office door, and entered. As if the earlier commotion had never happened, Kwon Yijae was sitting at his desk, working on documents.

“He’s gone?”

Blake bowed deeply, apologetic, without Kwon Yijae even turning around.

“I apologize, Director. The Esper insists he has something important to tell you.”

“You could have just sent him away.”

“It seemed like… it would require force to subdue him, which might cause a commotion. I judged that it could create difficulties for you, Director. I apologize.”

At least it didn’t mean he had caused a scene.

“No, it’s alright. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Kwon Yijae had anticipated this to some extent. After being so kindly informed, he didn’t think Shin Jeha would just leave.

“Bring him in.”

Kwon Yijae put on his gloves. The black leather gloves enveloped his large hands as if they had always been there. Seeing this, Blake was relieved. The Kwon Yijae he saw seemed to be expecting this.

Blake brought Shin Jeha’s wheelchair inside. This time, the bodyguards didn’t follow. Kwon Yijae put down his fountain pen and placed the documents in a drawer.

“Do you still have something to say, Mr. Shin Jeha?”

“Yes.”

Shin Jeha looked up at Kwon Yijae with a clear gaze.

“I have something to tell you.”

His eyes held no trace of hesitation or wavering.

Someone who has made a firm decision is remarkably at peace. As long as they adhere to that one thing, everything else is irrelevant.

“Alright. Blake, you can leave for a moment.”

Blake, after a moment of hesitation at the prospect of leaving them alone, bowed his head and left the office. For Blake, following Kwon Yijae’s orders was more important than his protection.

The office’s soundproofing was perfect. Their conversation wouldn’t be heard outside. Kwon Yijae stood some distance away from Shin Jeha, just as before. He leaned against the desk, arms crossed, in a casual stance.

“I know I’m too slow. I needed some time to think. Director. I can endure it. I’ve endured and persevered through all the pain so far… Now that I’ve met you, I feel like I can do anything.”

Shin Jeha’s voice was calm.

“I really don’t know why you would need or want to guide me… But as I said before, if you make me an Esper, I will repay your kindness. And in the meantime, I’ll endure whatever you do to me. It’s alright, no matter what you do. As you said, I’m an Esper… and Espers… don’t die.”

Despite his calm voice, his words were anything but. The Guide he had finally met. Shin Jeha didn’t want to give up on him.

“This probably isn’t enough of a reason or need for you… but really, am I truly that useless?”

Kwon Yijae met Shin Jeha’s gaze and observed him. There wasn’t a shred of falsehood in his clear eyes. Blindly, solely, as if nothing else around him mattered, Shin Jeha’s eyes were filled with Kwon Yijae.

This was it. What Kwon Yijae had been longing for. A willing defeat, and at the same time, a complete victory.

“Do you feel better now that you’ve finally reduced me to trash?”

Shin Jeha understood. They said he was a high-ranking official at Quantum. A member of the owner family, royalty. Shin Jeha, the Esper who appeared as a mutant to those who didn’t know his circumstances, and Kwon Yijae, the perfect member of society and a Guide, were different from the start.

Why did Kwon Yijae loathe Guides and Espers? From the moment Yijae dismissed him, Shin Jeha had been preoccupied with finding that reason. Perhaps he hated his own violent methods and didn’t want to live as a Guide. Or perhaps he hated his violent nature.

But Shin Jeha couldn’t shake the feeling that Kwon Yijae wasn’t a bad person. Since he was seventeen, five years ago, he had dealt with countless adults. The world he lived in was filled with more older people than young ones. They were hypocritical, secretive, and all of them lied or spoke unilaterally about what they wanted.

Kwon Yijae was the first person to ask him what he was thinking, why he had to do this, or even just his opinion.

So Shin Jeha thought, if Kwon Yijae were truly a bad adult, he wouldn’t have explained his reasons. Through the visceral act of violence, Shin Jeha immediately understood what he wanted.

So he could decide for himself. To entrust everything to Kwon Yijae.

“I apologize. I’ll take responsibility for that.”

“How?”

“That’s… I… I’ll…”

Shin Jeha, lost in thought, raised his head.

“I’ll become a bad person.”

Shin Jeha’s words finally drew a chuckle from Kwon Yijae.

“You’ll become a bad person?”

Kwon Yijae didn’t think Shin Jeha was capable of such a thing. Besides, he couldn’t trust him based on this one blind declaration.

Something unchanging.

Proof required time.

“I might not gain anything from guiding you, Mr. Shin Jeha, but fine. A meager amount of sympathy. Let’s say I’m guiding you because of that. Even so, I have too much to lose. And that’s not something you can comprehend with mere assumptions.”

At Kwon Yijae’s words, Shin Jeha finally lowered his head. He was confident he could protect his Guide. But what Kwon Yijae would lose wasn’t something Shin Jeha could be responsible for.

“…Should you… return to England after all?”

“That’s also part of the problem.”

“…”

Shin Jeha, who had entered so boldly, ultimately chose silence. He would give anything, if he could. But he was too insignificant, too lacking, to hold onto him.

“Why aren’t you saying anything?”

“I’m sorry. It doesn’t seem like something I can take responsibility for… If I said I could, it would be a lie…”

He heard the sound of approaching footsteps. He flinched as the toe of a shoe entered his downward gaze. Kwon Yijae, with a languid expression, was looking down at him.

Their eyes met.

Kwon Yijae didn’t look angry at all. How could he be? It would be strange if he wasn’t pleased with an Esper who only promised what he could deliver.

Let’s do this. Kwon Yijae thought.

“I have a proposition.”

“Yes?”

So this was the final test. Or perhaps, the first question in a test that Shin Jeha would have to face for the rest of his life.

“From now on, you do everything I tell you to.”

“…Yes.”

Kwon Yijae, arms crossed, ordered Shin Jeha,

“Use your ability. Without causing any harm.”

Shin Jeha looked around, then closed his eyes.

ESP was a manifestation of will. Even without proper training, he knew instinctively.

This time, he wouldn’t need to touch anything. Shin Jeha had a feeling.

A strange aura emanated from behind Shin Jeha, still seated in his wheelchair. The large leather sofa, which looked like it had never been used, began to shake. Kwon Yijae stared at the sofa levitating behind Shin Jeha.

The sofa rattled vigorously, almost imperceptibly, but it never quite lifted off the ground. As the slightly levitating sofa settled back down, Shin Jeha crumpled.

“Ugh!”

Shin Jeha, straining with effort, coughed up blood. The wavelengths, which appeared like traces whenever an Esper used their abilities, tangled haphazardly, forming increasingly complex shapes. Guiding was often likened to untangling a ball of yarn, shortening and organizing the threads. It was the process of smoothing out the long, stretched wavelengths produced by using ESP, pulling and tightening them into a shorter, thicker form.

But Shin Jeha’s wavelengths were harsh and chilling. They didn’t just tangle; they sharpened, lacerating his body. From the moment they changed, every breath was agony. He had to endure the pain of them tearing through his skin, piercing his blood vessels, and ravaging his internal organs.

That was the moment.

Kwon Yijae, ripping off his right glove with his teeth, knelt on one knee in front of Shin Jeha and grabbed his ankle. It was a skeletal ankle, so emaciated that he could trace the bones beneath the skin. The moment Kwon Yijae’s hand made contact, Shin Jeha felt an involuntary sense of relief.

The pain didn’t disappear completely. But Shin Jeha noticed a subtle difference. As if a barrier had formed over his wavelengths, they tore into him only after encountering a momentary resistance.

This was just enough to slightly alleviate the pain. Just as Kwon Yijae had said, it was a temporary measure. But Shin Jeha wanted to cry. It hurt less. This small relief was all he had longed for, for years.

“Can you do more?”

“Yes.”

Shin Jeha considered for a moment. Not in defiance, but how to demonstrate his ability. The fact that he was carefully observing his surroundings was proof of that.

Kwon Yijae, his bare hand making contact, waited, feeling the faint flow of guiding. The ankle fit completely within his grasp.

He carefully, cautiously pressed on the Achilles tendon beneath his thumb. Leaving the frail ankle, which felt like it would crumble under the slightest pressure, untouched required considerable restraint from Kwon Yijae.

Shin Jeha’s icy body temperature began to warm slightly where Kwon Yijae’s hand made contact.

Without harming anyone, without causing any harm to Kwon Yijae.

Shin Jeha took a deep breath. That was the moment.

A flow spread across the floor. This flow, unreadable to Kwon Yijae, touched and moved everything. The desk, bolted to the floor, began to rattle. Potted plants shifted, and the display cabinet shook. A gold fountain pen rolled off the desk and clattered to the floor. Starting with that, every object in the office slowly lifted off the floor, rising towards the ceiling.

Kwon Yijae looked up at Shin Jeha, taking in the spectacle.

Espers could use basic abilities by manipulating their wavelengths. Telekinesis was the most fundamental of these. But the sight of all the heavy furniture in the spacious office rising from their places, perfectly aligned, was truly impressive.

Shin Jeha carefully lowered each object one by one. The potted plants descended, and the pen that had rolled onto the floor settled back on the desk. The desk, maintaining its horizontal position, landed softly, and the chair behind it rolled back into place beneath it. The objects inside the glass display cabinet returned to their original positions, unbroken.

As Shin Jeha was about to lower the sofa, the last item,

“Ugh!”

Blood flowed from Shin Jeha’s mouth once more. Kwon Yijae had released his ankle.

Crash! The sofa plummeted onto the marble floor. Shin Jeha clutched his abdomen, doubled over, and coughed violently. It was such a harsh cough that he wondered if he was coughing up blood from his lungs.

“Cough, ugh…”

Blood stained the marble floor. Kwon Yijae, a faint smile playing on his lips, put his leather glove back on.

“Shin Jeha.”

Shin Jeha managed to look up and meet Kwon Yijae’s gaze. The smooth leather glove, completely devoid of warmth, wiped the blood from the corner of Shin Jeha’s mouth. Then, his body.

Shin Jeha, realizing belatedly that Kwon Yijae was wiping the blood off him with his glove, hurriedly protested.

“It’s okay, Director!”

“We agreed you’d do as I say, didn’t we? Stay still.”

At the arrogant, informal tone, so different from the polite speech before, Shin Jeha fidgeted but remained still. Kwon Yijae continued to wipe away the blood with his glove. Even the blood on the floor. He only stopped when blood dripped from the leather.

“I’m sorry, the gloves… they’ll be ruined.”

“No. Even this has its uses.”

Kwon Yijae looked down at the blood staining the palm of his glove. When they first met in the garden, he had found it repulsive to even touch him, but not now.

“Uses…?”

“Of course.”

Kwon Yijae took Shin Jeha’s thin hand and smeared the blood from his glove onto Shin Jeha’s right hand. Shin Jeha watched his actions with a puzzled expression. After smearing the blood, Kwon Yijae grabbed Shin Jeha’s wrist and slapped his own cheek with it.

Slap! It wasn’t a forceful blow, but it wasn’t a gentle touch either.

“Director!”

Startled, Shin Jeha struggled to pull his hand away, but he was held fast by a brutal force.

“I told you to stay still.”

“What are you doing… It must hurt, why are you doing this…”

His tearful voice, ironically, was filled with concern for Kwon Yijae, but as he had been told, Shin Jeha fidgeted but remained still.

A smile played on Kwon Yijae’s lips. There was something chilling about the smile on the blood-smeared face.

Only after repeating the action until his own face was covered in blood did Kwon Yijae release Shin Jeha’s hand. He made a move as if to wipe the blood away, but then abruptly stood up.

He went to his desk and pressed an emergency button.

Bang! The door burst open, and Blake and the other bodyguards rushed in.

“Director!”

Blake, seeing the blood on Kwon Yijae’s cheek, was startled and about to approach him when Yijae raised a hand to stop him. The blood was on his left cheek. Witnessing the chilling smile, Blake stretched out an arm to prevent the bodyguards from rushing towards the Esper.

Shin Jeha’s right hand was covered in blood. But it was unlikely that he had struck Kwon Yijae’s cheek with that hand. Unlike Kwon Yijae, who looked relaxed despite the blood on his face, Shin Jeha was trembling, his face pale with fear.

“Esper Shin Jeha.”

“Yes…”

A shaky voice responded cautiously.

“You just hit me for no reason. This seems like a clear case of assault. What do you think?”

Espers weren’t allowed to use their abilities on people unless legally authorized. Moreover, international law dictated that an Esper could never use violence against a Guide. This was a more serious offense than using abilities on a non-Esper and resulted in a heavy sentence.

But Shin Jeha remembered Kwon Yijae’s words.

‘From now on, you do everything I tell you to.’

If what Kwon Yijae wanted was for Shin Jeha to assault him, for Shin Jeha to receive a heavy sentence… He didn’t know the reason, but he didn’t need to.

Following orders didn’t mean understanding them.

“Yes.”

Shin Jeha made up his mind.

“I did it.”

He would play along with Kwon Yijae’s madness.

“I… hit you, Director… Yes, I did.”

It was solely for himself.

A commotion erupted among the bodyguards at Shin Jeha’s ready confession. If Blake hadn’t intervened, they would have immediately pointed their guns at Shin Jeha’s head, fitted him with ability suppression devices, and dragged him straight to the containment area.

But Blake was watching. He was witnessing another side of Kwon Yijae, a man he had known for over ten years.

Kwon Yijae was a coldly handsome man. He only smiled when social decorum demanded it. He alternated between a gentle mask and hypocrisy, maintaining an indifferent expression when no one was around.

And now, Kwon Yijae was smiling. It was a smile that couldn’t be interpreted favorably. It was chilling, cold, and strangely twisted, an expression of perverse satisfaction.

“Good.”

Kwon Yijae went to his desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a document. The document he had been working on before Shin Jeha arrived. The handwriting on the document, written in Kwon Yijae’s hand, was smooth and elegant.

1. The Guide has a duty to cooperate with guiding for the Esper’s treatment, and the frequency and method shall be determined by the Guide, taking into consideration the Guide’s tendencies and convenience.

It was an Esper-Guide Partner Contract, with everything but the first clause blank. Moreover, it was a single sheet, not a duplicate.

It was clearly an unfair contract. A terrifyingly unfair contract where Shin Jeha wouldn’t know what Kwon Yijae would add, what he would demand, and would have no choice but to comply.

Kwon Yijae picked up a fountain pen and signed smoothly.

Guide |

After signing, Kwon Yijae handed the contract and the fountain pen to Shin Jeha. The original contract, with no copies, beneath his elegant signature, Shin Jeha, with his trembling, blood-stained hand, wrote his name and stamped his fingerprint. Though his movements were slow, there was no hesitation.

“This is a common occurrence. An Esper demanding guiding, and when refused, resorting to force. The problem is that this is extraterritorial jurisdiction guaranteed by the Embassy, but there’s nothing we can do. Go and turn yourself in. We have witnesses.”

Kwon Yijae’s gaze shifted to Blake.

“Understood, Director.”

Blake, now a witness, bowed his head. Shin Jeha returned the contract, bearing his bloody fingerprint, to Kwon Yijae and asked,

“Then what will happen?”

“Well.”

The man, his thoughts unreadable, was smiling. Shin Jeha decided to keep it simple.

Just do as he’s told.

“Then… when can I see you again, Director?”

Instead of answering, Kwon Yijae lightly shook the contract in his hand. The contract was finalized; it was a sign to simply wait.

If he turned himself in, Shin Jeha would be arrested. He didn’t know what would happen after that. A trial? Or immediate sentencing? Either way, something dangerous would happen. But whether he died this way or that way, it was all the same.

“Then I’ll be going, Director.”

It was an overly casual farewell, considering he had just become a perpetrator of a serious crime. Kwon Yijae nodded towards Blake, and Blake pushed Shin Jeha’s wheelchair, just as before. He left the office with a docile expression, no trace of his earlier defiance.

It took less than an hour for Shin Jeha to arrive at the Seoul Jongno Police Station, the local precinct near Gwanghwamun where Quantum’s headquarters were located.

🤎

“I’ve returned.”

Blake, having taken Shin Jeha to the police station, returned. Kwon Yijae asked with an indifferent expression,

“Did everything go smoothly?”

“Yes, he turned himself in. Oh, he asked if he could cover his face. I thought it would be best, so I got him a mask.”

Even Quantum, which received reports on all Esper-related information from major countries around the world, hadn’t known of this Esper’s existence. Fortunately, Shin Jeha also seemed aware of the potential impact of his appearance. Kwon Yijae simply nodded without saying anything.

“Good work.”

“It was nothing.”

Blake, with an impassive expression, clearly remembered Shin Jeha going to the police station to turn himself in for a crime he hadn’t committed. Although he couldn’t see his expression because of the mask, Shin Jeha seemed strangely calm.

Orders required a hierarchy.

Blake Wilder himself would do anything Kwon Yijae asked of him. This was because Blake’s life was deeply intertwined with Kwon Yijae’s. But Shin Jeha wasn’t, not yet.

Despite this, Shin Jeha headed to the police station without a word of complaint. He didn’t hesitate even for a moment while turning himself in. It was audacious, even surprising to Blake, who was watching.

An Esper assaulting a Guide wasn’t unheard of. However, an ordinary situation of an Esper threatening a Guide became an impossibility when the names Shin Jeha and Kwon Yijae were involved. Someone knew both of them. For instance, the director of the Center. This fact bothered Blake.

“Why? Is there something else I should know?”

At Kwon Yijae’s brief question, Blake blinked his clouded eyes.

“Director. That Esper, he’s a bit strange.”

“Aiden said the same thing. Now you too?”

Kwon Yijae responded with a casual laugh.

“I’m not saying this because of his appearance. While research has revealed much about the relationship between Espers and Guides, we don’t know everything. There can always be exceptions, and I believe Mr. Shin Jeha’s appearance is one of them.”

At Blake’s words, Kwon Yijae slowly raised his head. His cold eyes urged him to continue.

“Even considering everything… it feels odd. Espers are generally devoted to their Guides, but even so, this is strange. Being able to do something so unfair without hesitation is impossible without conviction. And what concerns me most is that I don’t know what Mr. Shin Jeha is thinking.”

He had said it was the first time he had met his Guide in five years. Blake, as an Esper, could imagine how lonely and tormented he must have been, and how he must have perceived Kwon Yijae. Despite this, Blake couldn’t articulate the subtle sense of dissonance he felt.

“This is the first time you’ve expressed such concern.”

Blake’s words connected to the irony Kwon Yijae had felt since he first encountered Shin Jeha.

Humans were the most enigmatic beings in the world, and presuming to know the intentions behind someone’s actions often led to arrogance.

“So?”

“If you plan to keep him around, I think it would be wise to investigate further. Will you permit me to do so?”

“Well, I’m not going to bring him here immediately. Do as you please. But there’s no need to report back until I ask.”

“Thank you.”

Blake was curious about Shin Jeha. The meaning behind Kwon Yijae’s desire to keep him close, something he rarely showed interest in, wasn’t important. What mattered was determining whether he posed a threat to Kwon Yijae.

“Then leave that matter to me. More importantly, Director, it seems you’ll be staying in Korea for a while. Should I make preparations?”

Kwon Yijae smiled with satisfaction. Blake probably knew him best. He didn’t ask about the terms of the contract Yijae had made. At the same time, he knew things that even his secretary didn’t.

“…Yes. I’ll have to stay in Korea for a while because of Project K. It wouldn’t look good to just stay here, so I’ll be appointed as the branch manager for Korea. That’s already been decided.”

“Understood.”

“I’ve had Aiden prepare the miscellaneous tasks. Go and oversee the security of the mansion. We can’t allow the Korean government or the Korean Center to interfere.”

“Is there anything else you require?”

“We can proceed with the rest as planned. Have the researchers enter the country in separate groups, and request permission from the government to bring in the experimental equipment. What did Mother say?”

“She didn’t say anything in particular. Oh, she did mention that she’s finalized discussions with the Ministry of Foreign Affairs regarding this project.”

“We’ll need their help with the pharmaceuticals anyway. It’s classified, and getting it through security will be difficult. We’ll use the diplomatic pouch.”

Blake had been away for the past few days, leaving Kwon Yijae’s security to the other bodyguards, because he had more important matters to attend to.

Kwon Yijae’s father was a Guide. Born into a prestigious political family that had even produced a Prime Minister, he had unexpectedly chosen to become a soldier and married Eleanor, Kwon Yijae’s mother, a member of Quantum and an Esper. It was a typical political marriage.

Eleanor, ambitious to become the chairwoman of Quantum, desperately needed a child bearing her family name. Kwon Yijae’s father agreed to her decision. Thus, the collusion between a politician and a defense contractor resulted in the perfect military-industrial complex offspring: Kwon Yijae.

The fact that Kwon Yijae wasn’t interested in inheriting Quantum, and yet still handled important tasks within the company despite his proclaimed neutrality, was entirely due to his mother. Project K, which Yijae was in charge of, was essentially her creation.

Blake had flown to England personally to deliver various documents from Kwon Yijae to his mother and had just returned.

“Good. Everything alright with your parents?”

“Yes. However, your father did ask that you not stay in Korea for too long…”

“What to do, I’ll have to prioritize Mother’s request over Father’s again. But I should contact Father. I might need to ask him for a favor.”

Kwon Yijae said casually, smiling.

In any case, the Korean government would be in an uproar for a while. Kwon Yijae intended to blow this incident out of proportion. Just enough to make Espers socially perceived as a significant threat and potential criminals for the time being.

🤎

The parking lot in front of the police station was in chaos, swarming with people and protesters. Protesters holding signs condemning the Esper who had assaulted a Guide chanted loudly. The commotion was so intense that they were almost breaching the police line.

The doors opened, and a small figure, masked and hooded, emerged in a wheelchair. A Korean Center employee was pushing the wheelchair.

Everyone could clearly see. The Esper, his face hidden by the mask and his head bowed, had his hands bound by cuff-like ESP suppression devices.

“Take off the mask!”

“Reveal the criminal’s identity!”

“What era are we living in? An Esper assaulting a Guide?”

“Why is the Esper in a wheelchair?”

Amidst the sharp voices, the small Esper was quickly loaded into a car. A splattering sound echoed as an egg hit the closed door of the SUV. The SUV was a government vehicle with no license plates.

“Stop that car!”

People rushed forward, blocking the SUV’s path. Only after Espers arrived and cleared the area could the car finally leave the police station. This was the scene broadcast nationwide on the 9 p.m. news.

However, the reports omitted a few crucial details. First, while the Esper was indeed an Esper, he wasn’t a properly functioning one. Second, the assault hadn’t occurred in Korea, but within extraterritorial jurisdiction governed by British law.

“An Esper assaulting a Guide in this day and age? You’d have to be a complete wreck, wanting to rot away in some hole, to do something like that.”

The Center Director’s voice echoed in the room.

“Right? Esper Shin Jeha. What do you think?”

The Center Director asked, arms crossed.

A solitary confinement cell within the isolation ward of the Korean Esper Management Center. A cramped room with no windows. Shin Jeha was confined here, surrounded by devices embedded in the walls to suppress any Esper abilities.

Normally, Esper crimes were investigated by the Special Investigations Unit for Espers at the National Police Agency, but this case was different. The identity of the Esper who had turned himself in was classified as top secret, inaccessible even to the police.

Less than fifteen minutes after the Esper, identifying himself as Shin Jeha, appeared at the police station, the Korean Esper Management Center demanded his custody. The police, naturally, refused.

Not much time had passed before the incident, as if planned, was reported in online news, and protesters flocked to the police station. The Center Director barely managed to extract Shin Jeha from the police station and confine him within the isolation ward.

“Can’t you hear me? What were you thinking?!”

“Director, you know Jeha’s condition. He can barely speak right now…”

The Center Director glared at Dr. Lim, Jeha’s physician.

“Don’t give me that. Didn’t you hear he turned himself in? He can’t speak? He can’t speak? Dr. Lim, is something wrong with your hearing? Someone who can’t speak turned himself in at the police station!”

The Center Director yelled, his voice echoing in the small room. He wanted to grab Shin Jeha by the collar and shake him.

“Shin Jeha. Tell me honestly. What did Kwon Yijae say? What did he say to make you do such a thing? Huh?”

Shin Jeha remained silent. There was nothing he could say. Kwon Yijae had told him to turn himself in. He didn’t understand why he had to become a criminal, but he did it because Kwon Yijae told him to.

“Dr. Lim.”

“Yes.”

“Start the examination.”

“…Understood.”

Dr. Lim, with a displeased expression, attached the examination equipment to Shin Jeha’s body.

“Shin Jeha, listen carefully.”

The Center Director sneered at Shin Jeha, who was still stubbornly silent.

“We’re going to thoroughly examine your condition. And based on the results, we plan to press charges against Director Kwon Yijae.”

At those words, Shin Jeha finally raised his head. The Center Director met his gaze. The boy, who had always seemed hazy and indistinct, a part of the background, now stared back with sharp eyes.

“An Esper assaulting a Guide. Yes, on the surface, it’s a shocking incident worthy of attention. But that’s only possible if the assault was actually possible. What power does a half-baked Esper, who hasn’t even received proper guiding, have to assault a Guide? We’ll submit the hospital records, and Kwon Yijae will be charged with false accusation.”

Shin Jeha, sitting on the small cot without his wheelchair, unconsciously clenched his hands.

“So keep acting on your own. Keep your mouth shut if you don’t want to talk. Since Kwon Yijae started this, I won’t stay quiet either. I don’t know what he told you to do, but I won’t let you get away with it. Understand?”

The Center Director gave Shin Jeha a sharp warning and left the room. The heavy metal door slammed shut with a loud clang, followed by the sound of a large bolt sliding into place. He was surrounded by darkness.

A cramped, 1.5-pyeong space with no light, only a bed. Shin Jeha was trapped.

But that didn’t mean it was unbearable. He had to stay confined in this space until someone let him out? It was nothing. Compared to the five years he had spent at the Center, anything was better than that.

🤎

The large screen dominating the conference room displayed the news that had been broadcast the previous evening.

—We thought we lived in a changed world, a peaceful world where Espers and Guides coexisted with ordinary citizens. You all remember the news of the Esper assaulting a Guide in downtown Seoul a few days ago. The Esper turned himself in at the Seoul Jongno Police Station, but the Korean Esper Management Center, which has custody of the Esper, has yet to release a statement. Citizens continue to protest in front of the Center. We connect now to reporter Lee Minjoo.

As the Center’s main building in Yangjae-dong appeared on the screen, the Center Director, sitting with an irritated expression, grabbed the remote and turned off the TV. Simultaneously, the dimly lit conference room brightened.

Three people sat at the round table. Yoon Seyeon, the Center Director and de facto head of the Korean Esper Management Center, Dr. Lim Younghoon, Shin Jeha’s physician, and Kwon Yijae of Quantum.

Kwon Yijae sat with his legs crossed, a gentle smile still plastered on his face. The Center Director thought he looked like the devil. He was a complete lunatic.

“I really tried to understand you, Director Kwon. Guiding? It can be unpleasant. I understand. But to throw the Esper who came to you for help in jail?”

“I wasn’t the one who put him in jail, nor did I assault him. In Korea, do you blame the victim in these situations?”

“Don’t be absurd! How could Shin Jeha possibly attack you! Does that make any sense?”

Kwon Yijae responded to the Center Director’s sharp accusation with a smile.

“A Guide is a civilian. I sympathize with the Esper’s situation, but that only deepens the suspicion, doesn’t it?”

Kwon Yijae’s face was smooth, without a trace of any injury. Assault? The Center Director was dumbfounded.

Shin Jeha had confessed to assaulting Kwon Yijae and turned himself in. Kwon Yijae, as if waiting for this, had escalated the incident. The incident became public, and public opinion flared. This was all a collaboration between the Korean Ministry of Foreign Affairs, which had received a complaint from the British Embassy, and the Korean military, which had summoned Kwon Yijae out of necessity.

Kwon Yijae was not someone who could be assaulted by Shin Jeha. Aside from his physique and physical condition, the bodyguards he always had with him were all Espers from Quantum’s PMC. There was no way Shin Jeha could overpower them.

Moreover, the Center Director remembered the rumors that always followed Kwon Yijae. Horrible rumors that he had driven numerous Espers to ruin. Those rumors, combined with the fact that the British government had practically given up on him, and Kwon Yijae’s background, which made it impossible to dismiss the rumors as mere gossip.

The British government had tried everything to get Kwon Yijae to actively work as a Guide, but at some point, they gave up. Putting everything together, the Center Director was certain that the rumors weren’t entirely baseless.

“We plan to press charges against Director Kwon Yijae based on Esper Shin Jeha’s condition.”

Kwon Yijae laughed at the absurd statement.

“Well, I wonder if that will be possible?”

Of course, the Center Director’s words were a lie. Dr. Lim had examined Shin Jeha’s condition upon his return to the Center, and surprisingly, there had been a change in his wavelengths. A very subtle change, but a clear sign of guiding. Therefore, Shin Jeha’s claim of using his ability against his Guide was more likely to be accepted as truth.

‘Once the test results are out, immediately call a press conference. The preparations are complete, so Dr. Lim can make the announcement.’

‘Cancel the press conference.’

‘What?’

‘It seems… possible.’

The Center Director had to pause to interpret Dr. Lim’s words. What was possible? The subject and object were easily deduced.

‘Dr. Lim, are you joking?’

‘I apologize, Director, but this is a clear fact.’

‘Does that make any sense? Shin Jeha, he’s a patient. He doesn’t even have strength in his arms. How could he possibly attack an Esper? Be reasonable!’

‘Look. His wavelengths are showing a different pattern than before.’

Dr. Lim explained using complex diagrams and figures, but the Center Director, unable to accept the situation, raged.

‘Does that make any sense! Can we even use him? Then we would have used him long ago! Why keep him locked up in the isolation ward for five years!’

‘…It seems Director Kwon Yijae must have done something when he met with Jeha.’

‘What?’

‘According to the test results, Jeha’s condition has slightly improved. As a physician, my opinion is that there’s clear evidence of contact with a Guide.’

‘A slight improvement makes that possible? No, there’s such a thing as physical difference! They’re not even on the same level!’

‘If he was in a condition to use his ESP, it would be a different story. And that’s what Director Kwon Yijae will argue.’

Dr. Lim spoke with an oddly cheerful tone, inappropriate for the situation. Disgusted by Dr. Lim’s strangely bright eyes, the Center Director rubbed his forehead and closed his eyes.

‘It doesn’t matter. Then we’ll make the announcement based on the previous test results.’

The Center Director insisted. He wanted to screw Kwon Yijae over, even if it meant being unreasonable. But Dr. Lim shook his head.

‘Director, I’m a researcher. I can’t deny what happened, not with my reputation on the line. That would be falsification.’

‘Dr. Lim! Why are you doing this!’

‘He might not be now, but at the time he turned himself in, Jeha was clearly capable of using his abilities. Director, wrong is wrong.’

From the moment Dr. Lim’s refusal ruined his plan, the Center Director flew into a rage. The situation was completely illogical. Considering that Kwon Yijae had consistently refused to guide Shin Jeha, it was utterly absurd. If it had been this easy from the start, he could have just done it and taken the credit. At least, that’s what Yoon Seyeon thought.

Who refuses a single guiding session? For some reason, Kwon Yijae had guided him, and Shin Jeha had turned himself in. This was practically proof of some kind of agreement between them.

“We’ll only know if it’s possible after we try.”

“Yes, try it. It will be interesting to see you try to cling to me with such nonsense. Of course, those are words you can only utter if you’re prepared to take responsibility for the aftermath. Let me make it clear that the consequences won’t end with a few people here losing their jobs. Shall we see?”

The Center Director was about to lose his mind. Kwon Yijae had the backing of Quantum and a prestigious British political family. He was at his breaking point.

“…”

“So, where is the Esper? I heard he’s not in jail.”

“…He’s not in jail, but in the isolation ward of the Management Center.”

Kwon Yijae nodded at Dr. Lim’s answer.

“I understand the Center can’t give up on Shin Jeha. Shall we conclude our meeting here?”

As Kwon Yijae rose from his seat, the Center Director slammed his hand on the table.

“Hey, Director Kwon Yijae.”

“My name isn’t Kwon Yijae. Address me properly.”

“Is that so? Fine. Director Kwon. Shin Jeha is back at the Center because a disciplinary hearing is scheduled regarding the previous incident.”

“Is that so? It would be convenient if you could handle this matter along with it. He won’t see the outside world for decades. Should I just wait for updates?”

Kwon Yijae vaguely sensed the Center’s ambiguous stance towards Shin Jeha. They couldn’t give up on him, but they couldn’t give him special treatment either.

An Esper brainwashed and trained to accept limited freedom as the norm. That’s all they wanted. It was a typical mindset for government officials.

“You might have to wait a while. The Center’s operations are currently paralyzed. Because of what you did, Director Kwon.”

“Then you shouldn’t have sent Shin Jeha to me in the first place.”

“That’s exactly what I want to ask you. You said you hated it so much, so why did you guide him?”

“Well, why do you think I did it? Hmm, let’s just say I had to do it to appease the Esper who was threatening to assault me—wouldn’t that be a suitable explanation? I think that would be enough to convince people.”

The Center Director was furious at Kwon Yijae’s blatant attitude, but they were back to square one. No matter how much they argued, the outcome was predetermined. A director of Quantum, an arms dealer. Expecting mercy from Kwon Yijae was impossible. And the Center couldn’t give up on Shin Jeha.

“Dr. Lim.”

The Center Director said in a defeated voice, waving his hand. Dr. Lim pushed a file towards Kwon Yijae. The moment he opened it, he saw Shin Jeha’s profile. It was clearly stamped “TOP SECRET” in red.

Name: Shin Jeha

Esper Classification: ESPER

Access Level: Maintain Highest Security Level

Awakening Age: 17 years old

Specialty: Unknown

Threat Level: EX Class

Special Notes: Incomplete Awakening

Appearance Abnormality

Myasthenia Gravis, Eating Disorder, Sleep Disorder, Sensory Abnormality, etc. All symptoms are expected to improve with guiding, according to the attending physician’s opinion.

Probability of Wavelength Collapse within 1 year: 67.4%

Probability of Wavelength Collapse within 3 years: 99.7%

Kwon Yijae put down the useless document, devoid of any information he actually needed. Ah, the only useful information was Shin Jeha’s awakening age and…

Incomplete awakening.

An awakening at seventeen, unheard of until now, that was Shin Jeha’s secret. Revealing this to Kwon Yijae was the Korean Center’s way of surrendering.

Kwon Yijae’s expression remained cold as he put down the document, but his eyes glittered. The Center Director sighed.

“What do you want, Director Kwon?”

“I should ask you the same. Why is Shin Jeha so important to you?”

Both Dr. Lim and the Center Director remained silent, their expressions stern. Kwon Yijae leaned back, arms crossed, and replied,

“Do you simply want to save him? If so, I could have told you how. Have Shin Jeha renounce his Korean citizenship. Then I’ll take him to England.”

“An Esper’s abilities are government assets, and all civilians…”

“…have a duty to serve, you mean? Spare me the platitudes. He’s destined to die without ever properly using his abilities if I don’t guide him, so what government asset are you talking about? He’s a write-off.”

After hearing the Center Director’s explanation, Kwon Yijae understood. Not that he agreed with it, but he understood why Korea couldn’t give up on Shin Jeha. And he grasped the most crucial piece of information omitted from the profile.

The possibility that Shin Jeha possessed a unique ability that manifested only in a very small percentage of Espers.

Otherwise, the Korean Center’s actions—threatening him, warning him, then trying to appease him—made no sense.

“When I think about it, don’t you think I’m quite pitiful? An Esper comes to me asking for guiding and assaults me out of the blue. I offer to take him if he renounces his citizenship, and you refuse? How is that any different from telling me to stay in Korea?”

The Center Director finally sighed and replied,

“Director Kwon, you will be staying in Korea.”

“Why?”

“Because we will unconditionally cooperate with Quantum’s Project K, meeting all your demands.”

Dr. Lim’s eyes gleamed strangely. Only the Center Director and Kwon Yijae knew the details of Project K.

“I thought negotiations on that had fallen through?”

“We accept the conditions you previously stated. We’ll do our best to accommodate the necessary procedures.”

The Center Director had finally surrendered. He couldn’t give up on Shin Jeha, and he shouldn’t. Dr. Lim, who had been observing Shin Jeha for five years, felt the same.

“Do our best to accommodate… I still think that’s not enough.”

“Not enough? Do you have further demands?”

As if waiting for this, Kwon Yijae began listing his conditions. That while he and Shin Jeha would enter into an Esper-Guide partnership contract, its termination would be at Kwon Yijae’s discretion, that Kwon Yijae had no obligation to cooperate with the Korean government or the Korean Center, and so on.

The Center Director, looking exasperated, stared at him as if daring him to continue.

“My reason for guiding Shin Jeha is purely altruistic. To reciprocate the trust shown to our Quantum by Korea, a leading nation in Esper capabilities. It will be stated as a form of ethical volunteering.”

At this point, the Center Director wanted to scream and burst out laughing in disbelief.

“Ha, haha… Yes, do as you please…”

“While I’m staying in Korea, I will be responsible for Shin Jeha’s well-being. Also, designate a mansion of my choosing as extraterritorial jurisdiction, under the same conditions as the Quantum branch. No one is allowed to enter without my permission, and the Center has no right to question anything that happens within its premises. Do you have any further conditions to add?”

“…Did you bring the paperwork for extraterritorial jurisdiction? Are you joking?”

The stunned Center Director asked incredulously.

“If you don’t, I’ll continue. I’m not finished yet.”

“…Don’t you think that’s enough?”

The Center Director sighed and said,

“Shin Jeha is an Esper who should be working for the Korean government. Therefore, he must live. If we agree to all your conditions, Director Kwon, that means you are responsible for guaranteeing Shin Jeha’s life and safety.”

“When I say I’ll be responsible for his well-being, I mean it. In return, the Center won’t be able to arbitrarily call upon Shin Jeha. Especially not until his condition improves. Absolutely not.”

The Center Director, his voice subdued, asked,

“How long will the treatment take?”

“Well, he’s in the worst condition I’ve ever seen in an Esper. It won’t be a short-term process. At least a year, even if things go well.”

“And after the treatment is complete?”

Kwon Yijae responded with his usual polite smile.

“That’s why the Korean government needs to do its best to ensure the success of Project K. That will be a prerequisite for this negotiation.”

No Project K success, no Shin Jeha recovery. The Center Director and the physician understood Kwon Yijae’s implication perfectly. Kwon Yijae continued, his tone a warning,

“I won’t be responsible for any risks that arise if the Center decides to use the Esper before he’s fully recovered.”

“Surprisingly, it’s a relief that we agree on this point.”

The Center Director sincerely wanted to save Shin Jeha.

A unique ability, unknown until it manifests, a special ability that no other Esper can possess. Shin Jeha had a very high probability of being one of these unique ability holders, of which there were fewer than a hundred in the entire world.

Therefore, Shin Jeha had to remain Korean. Shin Jeha’s ability must be used for the benefit of the Korean people. In an era where an Esper’s dedication to their country determined national power, the Center Director would never use Shin Jeha recklessly, waste his potential, or leave him to die.

The only problem was that Kwon Yijae was the only one who could guide Shin Jeha.

“Alright. Then let’s finalize the remaining details.”

Kwon Yijae said with a smirk.

“Let’s exclude Project K. That’s just a prerequisite. So, how much is the Korean government willing to offer for my altruistic act of helping this poor Esper?”

Kwon Yijae called his secretary, Aiden. A knock echoed on the closed conference room door, and Aiden entered, handing a document to both Kwon Yijae and the Center Director. The Center Director quickly scanned the document and stood up, slamming his hand on the table.

“Th-th-this…!”

He wanted to curse, to yell, but the Center Director forced himself to hold back with all the patience he could muster.

The document his secretary had brought in was the arms supply contract signed between Quantum and the Korean Center three years prior. Kwon Yijae, right in front of them, dramatically tore the contract in half.

“Now that the Korean Center has ceded all rights to Shin Jeha to me, we can finally sit at a level playing field. As for the other matters, it seems we need to start over from the beginning.”

The Center Director shook his head. Kwon Yijae was going to take everything in exchange for taking on Shin Jeha. The thought that he might have planned this from the beginning suddenly crossed his mind.

But it was ironic that Kwon Yijae was the only one who considered Shin Jeha’s will throughout this negotiation. Neither Dr. Lim, Shin Jeha’s physician, nor the Center Director cared about what Shin Jeha thought or worried about. They only wanted him to survive and become an asset to the Korean Center.

After a long meeting, the terms of the negotiation between the Korean Center and Kwon Yijae were finalized. The basic framework was in place, and now the working-level staff would have to engage in a lengthy battle over every word and clause until the final agreement was reached.

“Once this is finalized, I’ll take Esper Shin Jeha with me.”

Kwon Yijae tapped the contract with his crossed index and middle fingers, a warning in his tone.

“Manage him well until then. And don’t try anything funny. I mean, don’t insert anything into Shin Jeha’s body. Send him to me in perfect condition.”

“…Ha, alright. We’ll do that.”

Only after ensuring his demands were met did Kwon Yijae finally leave the conference room. A crowd of people followed in his wake.

With more snow forecasted in the next few days, the Espers were on high alert. Kwon Yijae looked out the transparent window with an indifferent gaze. The sky was a dull, overcast gray. But a cold, cruel smile played on Kwon Yijae’s face, faintly reflected in the gray glass.